


A Dragon's Enemy

by dontbecooler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dragonlock, Dragons, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, Romance, Smauglock, The Dragons Soldier sequel thingy, Torture, War, fanfic of a fanfic, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the dragons "came out" to the rest of the world, nobody expected the resulting War that broke out between Humans and Beasts. Both sides afraid and suspicious of each other, Humans drove Dragons into slavery, imprisoning them and turning their children into weapons for the military. Forced into hiding, many Dragons disguised themselves as Human and kept their secrets locked away, awaiting for the day when the royal blood line long since vanished would once again reappear and lay waste to the Humans that oppressed them.</p><p>John and Sherlock are out in the field when they rescue a dark-haired woman.<br/>She's not as she seems...</p><p>(I suck at writing summaries, the main bit is from The Dragon's soldier and the shitty two lines at the end are mine.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not As She Seems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedthicket1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedthicket1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Dragon's Soldier](https://archiveofourown.org/works/877869) by [twistedthicket1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedthicket1/pseuds/twistedthicket1). 



> BEFORE YOU READ ANY FURTHER YOU HAVE TO MAKE SURE YOU HAVE READ THE DRAGON'S SOLDIER BECAUSE THIS WILL MAKE NO SENSE IF YOU HAVEN'T I'M NOT KIDDING THESE ARE THE RULES IF YOU WANT TO READ THIS YOU HAVE TO READ THE ACTUAL FANFIC I'M SERIOUS.  
> -.- watching you.
> 
> If you haven't read it and you're down here you shouldn't be... you know where you should be.
> 
> Right okay we have to make sure that everyone knows THAT THIS ISN'T MY UNIVERSE THIS IS twistedthicket1's AND PLEASE DON'T GET CONFUSED ABOUT THE CHARACTERS.  
> If Moriarty shows up later in 'The Dragon's Soldier', he has nothing to do with my version of the baddie.
> 
> You need to know that this definitely won't be written as well or in the same format as twisted writes, and I am posting this because it's been gnawing at my mind like a hungry dragon.  
> Aaaaaand I just wanted to know what other people thought of this sooooo. 
> 
> This takes place shortly after John and Sherlock have finished training in Kandahar, or shortly after Chapter Sixteen. It is a different path to where the story goes on from there.  
> Let me know if it's shit and I will not write anyyyymore of it :)

The dirt whirled around John and Sherlock, stinging John’s eyes and sticking in his hair.

They had been sent out to search for civilians after a rebel attack, with a couple of other medics, though not any John knew well. It was one of their first rescue and recover missions, and both of them were slightly nervous.

Sherlock was half turned, eyes flicking to every building, on high alert. His scales were red flecked with grey. He was on watch, but he was extremely on edge.

 

**_I can hear someone in there._ **

****

He sent to John, nodding towards a dusty building, and if John strained his hearing, he could hear a small sobbing. Straightening his shoulders and making sure he still had his gun in its holster, he went into the room.

It looked like a hurricane had gone through.

The walls were shredded, blood spattered at infrequent intervals, all leading to the small woman in the corner.

 

She was curled over herself, sobbing silently. She didn’t hear the pair come in, so they had time to survey her.

 

**_Deep scratch marks up her arm, knotted hair, feeble positioning. I’ll stay by the door as not to scare her._ **

****

John nodded tightly, taking a step forward.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and the woman’s head snapped up.

She would have been quite pretty if half of her face wasn’t covered in blood, the tears from her right eye smudging it down even more. The trail went all the way down her neck, knotting bits of her jet black hair.

Her bright blue eyes were bloodshot, her clothes extremely dirty.

 

She shuddered, and John immediately went forward slowly, bending his knees so he was closer to the woman’s height.

“My name is John, I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured; stopping when she tried vainly to back up into the wall.

 

**_Something is wrong._ **

****

Sherlock cautioned his friend, and John waited, keeping his small smile in place.

 

_What?_

**_I can’t place it._ **

 

Sherlock’s annoyance was evident in his tone, and he shifted.

The woman gasped out a sob, cowering away from Sherlock’s tall figure, even though he was further away from her.

“I didn’t do anything,” she told John, eyes completely broken as she sniffed.

“They just came, taking my husband,” she choked, and she pulled at her hair. Her face fell considerably, as if the pain was coming in waves.

She broke down, a small noise at first, but becoming louder as she decided she could trust the soldier, and she came forward, falling into his arms.

 

She sobbed loudly, and John tentatively put his arms around her, careful not to touch her wounds.

Sherlock bristled silently behind the two, but he kept his composure.

 

**_Keep an eye on her John, this feels wrong._ **

 

John acknowledged it in silence, murmuring condolences in the stricken woman’s ear.

“Alright, ma’am you’re injured, can I have permission to take you back to the medic tent?” he asked quietly, and he felt the woman nod against his shoulder.

John helped her up slowly, letting her use him as a crutch. Through his uniform he didn’t notice her cool skin.

 

She came up closer to the dragon than she wanted, and she let out a small scream.

“Don’t hurt me please,” she begged, hiding behind John. “Please I have done nothing.”

John turned so he was in between Sherlock and the woman.

“That’s Sherlock, he’s my dragon. He won’t hurt you I swear.” John explained, nodding for Sherlock to go out ahead of them, which he did, albeit reluctantly.

 

“What’s your name ma’am?” John asked, noticing that her wounds were still bleeding.

 

**_Almost too fresh._ **

 

Sherlock noted, not looking back at them as he watched keenly for any threats.

John dismissed it.

“Kate, I was out here volunteering with my husband,” she paused, throat tight, “and the dragon’s came.”

She leant more heavily into John’s shoulder, and though she was taller than him, closer to Sherlock’s height than his own, she was extremely light and small.

 

John supported her, thinking about carrying her to the tent, but she was walking with only a slight limp.

The rest of the walk was quiet, Sherlock up ahead, mind working furiously.

Her wounds looked fresher than they should be for the time of the attack, a lot of the blood not being dry. Why was she in an empty building?

Sherlock growled under his breath. He didn’t like not knowing.

 

Kate stumbled, and John assured her that they’d be at the tent soon.

John led her into his medic tent, about to call for another medic so he could go out looking for more stragglers.

“Can I get someone else here!” he yelled out, telling the woman to lie on the bed, one of the four in there.

The woman’s eyes were wild. “Please, no, please, can you stay?” she gasped, gripping John’s arm.

 

“I’m sorry ma’am, I need to see if anyone else is out there,” he reasoned, and he saw her eyes darken minutely, pupils slitting slightly, but she was back to normal so quickly John convinced himself he was imagining things in this heat.

“Please,” she begged again, not loosening her grasp. Her eyes were so pained, so John nodded.

“Alright,” he agreed, getting rewarded by a tiny smile.

Sherlock entered after a moment, coming forward to tap John on the shoulder, but he stopped when Kate cowered away.

 

She blinked, tears forming in her eyes.

“Does the dragon have to be here?” she asked quietly, and the tears overflowed, dripping down her face, tracking through the blood.

John nodded, “But since you’re frightened I know he’ll stay in the corner,” he said, subtly telling Sherlock what to do.

 

There was a rough exhale, but Sherlock did as he was asked.

When the woman could actually take her scared eyes of the dragon, John set to work.

He washed the blood away, so he could have a look at her wounds better.

They were quite deep, a large one going down Kate’s right cheek, four claw lines. There was a large bite mark on her upper left arm, and a small gash down her calf. Lifting up Kate’s top, he saw a burn on her stomach, and it was blistering, but it was not exactly matching to a fire burn. Almost like it was done by ice. John thought it interesting; maybe that was why the rest of her skin was quite cool to touch.

 

“You don’t look too bad,” John reassured, putting stitches in her cheek and thoroughly cleaning the other wounds.

Kate sniffed, wincing as John patched her up.

He put a large gauze pad on her burn, and he realized Sherlock had been observing.

****

**_There’s something I need to tell you._ **

 

Sherlock said, having become taken to short precise sentences since he was put on duty.

John smiled quickly, getting a glass of water for the woman. “Drink this, I need to fill in your injury form, and talk to Sherlock.”

The woman flinched when Sherlock moved, but she nodded, taking the water and sculling it eagerly.

John picked up his clipboard, following Sherlock outside the tent.

 

He began filling out the form, blinking at the bright paper a few times before his eyes got used to it.

 

_What did you find out?_

 

He asked silently. If something was going on, he didn’t want Kate to freak out.

Sherlock spit a little bit of ice onto the ground.

 

**_John, can you not see it? Those wounds are self-inflicted. The burn has been made by ice, and the bite is at an angle that suggests that the head was above her, or perhaps her head as a substitute. The woman has a scratch mark on her face, but the marks come from the direction as if the claws came from below but it’s deeper in the wrong places, like it was done so it was not obvious._ **

**_Not to mention it was still bleeding, though the attack was marked at a time a lot earlier this morning, so the blood should be dried._ **

****

_I thought it was a little unusual. So what then? She’s a dragon then, trying to get into camp._

**_Obviously._ **

****

John nodded, signing his name at the bottom of the page.

He went back into the tent, a small smile on his face.

“Is something wrong Doctor?” Kate sniffed, glass empty on the table.

John put the clipboard next to it, but he froze when Sherlock growled.

Kate flinched, eyes unsure and worried.

“Am I sick?” she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

 

John shook his head, stepping away so he was out of arms reach.

“We think those wounds are self-inflicted,” John said, still with a quiet tone.

The woman gaped, “You think- that I hurt-“ she stammered, but as she saw Sherlock’s expression, she dropped the act. The small sniveling woman was gone, only to be replaced by a straight backed flat expression of a warrior.

She straightened her shoulders, pupils going into normal slits easily, and she put her feet on the floor.

She smiled, cracking her fingers.

 

“Well, aren’t you observant,” she said politely, lunging forward to grab John’s shoulders. Sherlock let out a small roar, about to jump forward, but a sharp nail was pressed to John’s throat, near his artery.

“I don’t want to hurt Dr. Johnny,” she said, voice still sickly sweet, “So don’t make me.”

She let go a little, confident orange wings growing out behind her. Two small horns grew out from her head, and John tried calming his breathing as she pulled him closer.

“Thanks for the help,” she said forlornly, stroking John’s hair tenderly. She stood, ignoring Sherlock’s constant growl.

 

She went to the entrance, flaring her wings, which flashed a warning red a Sherlock stepped forward.

“Don’t think so Sherlio,” she rhymed, still petting John’s head.

She sighed, leaning into John so her mouth was by his ear. He stayed stock still, unsure what was going to happen. A few soldiers near by saw this, and started coming over their way.

“I have two things to say,” she murmured quickly. “First, tell your superiors that we fight until our last breath,” she hissed slightly, “Draskiria doch baithel,” she repeated in Dragon-Tongue, enjoying how John tensed considerably.

 

“And second,” she paused, for dramatic effect, still ignoring Sherlock, “You can call me Sovelia,” she amended, so he didn’t have her name wrong.

She pushed John roughly towards Sherlock, not hesitating while Sherlock helped up his friend.

“But most know me as Moriarty!” she yelled down at them, flying away with her scales glinting a pleased amber.

 

Sherlock went to take off, but the two were surrounded by the officers, who had called on someone of power.

The head medic of today, a broad man with a kind face, touched John’s shoulder. “You’re going to have to tell us all about that…”


	2. The Sound of S(laughter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp! It's a new chapterrrr :3 oh no haha. Be careful though, *legolas voice* blood has been spilled this chapter

John and Sherlock both had to relay what they knew of this new ‘rebel fighter’. It didn’t take long for word to get to Kandahar, and when the pair got home, they saw that there had been small warnings for soldiers to keep an eye out for an ‘ice-eyed, black haired woman’, and it also told everyone that ‘she could be dangerous’.

John didn’t think that a warning was enough at first, but after a few weeks, ‘Moriarty’, was at the back of everyone’s minds.

Both of them had been at the hospital today, expanding their medical knowledge with critically injured soldiers, and when they were back in soldier bunks, even Sherlock looked exhausted.

 

John was reading when Sherlock leapt forward to turn up the radio.

 

**“This is an emergency broadcast for all soldiers going out into the field. Today, a platoon was slaughtered while they were out on patrol. A Northern dragon known as Moriarty appeared in the middle of the road, drawing a gun and killing six men, before turning and attacking with melee and magic. There was only one survivor, the battalion captain, who is in intensive care.”**

John looked over to Sherlock, who was glaring at the radio as if it had personally offended him.

Neither of them got much sleep that night.

 

_~Earlier that day~_

 

Sovelia smiled as they approached her. She was sitting in the middle of the road, head in her hands, her dark hair concealing her face.

She heard the sergeant order for the group to stop, and her smile widened, knowing that they would only see her shaking shoulders, her pained noises.

She heard footsteps, a young man it seemed, coming forward.

“Excuse me ma’am, are you alright,” he asked, getting bobbing down so he was at her height.

 

She sniffed, shaking her head. She looked up, making her bottom lip tremble with ease. Silently she surveyed the group.

 

Two dragons, fifteen men. Easy.

 

The boy stood, offering a hand, and Sovelia took it. When she fell into him, she decided it was now or never.

Drawing the gun she had hidden in her pants, she shot him in the head. Some of his skull painted Sovelia’s face, and she smiled wickedly as the body went limp, falling over in her direction, but she stepped to the side.

 

Some of the other men gasped, and the dragon’s growled.

Before the limp boy had even hit the ground, she emptied her pistol, her aim perfect, hitting five more people dead in between their eyes. She had always been good with guns.

 

Two dragons, nine men.

 

She half morphed as the dragon’s came at her, fully shifted.

She tsked under her breath as bullets began firing at her, the one’s coming near her skull being deflected easily with a basic defense charm, the one’s hitting her body doing nothing to her confident turquoise scales that were hidden by clothing.

Though one did scrape her arm, which was a little annoying.

 

She flared her wings out behind her, taking flight and shooting towards the young Chinese dragon. It began to spit water at her, but her hands changed into claws in a split second, grabbing it right behind the head and cracking it to the side with speed. It became limp suddenly, and before it could shift into its small human form she threw the dragon at the group of men, crushing one man’s chest before he could even scream.

 

One dragon, eight men.

 

The second dragon let off a roar, sending a stream of fire her way. It caught the side if her face, blistering it. Sovelia gaped at his audacity. She shook her him, ignoring the pain as easily as one ignores a blow-fly.

The dragon came closer, its stomach rumbling as it went to set off another lot of flames.

Sovelia’s human hand came up, hovering in the air. Bullets still flew past her, another one having hit her leg at some point. This had to be over soon then, before she lost too much blood.

 

She clenched her raised fist, and the English dragon let out a pained cry. You couldn’t see anything at first, but then the ice-shards in its stomach expanded, blowing the dragons innards all over the road below it, painting it with red and pink.

Sovelia completely shifted, scales vibrant colors, a deadly rainbow of warning reds, pleased blues, joyous orange and yellows, and the still confident greens. They went in waves over her scales, and the men paused in awe for a few seconds, entranced.

She let out a loud keen, tucking in her wings, diving down at speed towards the remaining soldiers.

 

She landed heavily on one man, crushing his screams in his esophagus. The blood spattered out, and Solvelia turned quickly, stunning a man behind her, letting her get her deadly claws around his throat, and she didn’t waste time in crushing his neck, before going to the next man.

She roared in his face, freezing his eyes and his entire skull with a burst of cold.

 

Five men.

 

Grabbing two men by the arms, she took off, flapping her wings, only slightly strained, and she took them up, up, up, until the air was thin. They screamed and cried and tried to shoot her but she had cut into their gun hands, and blood was dripping in a steady stream, soon followed by their falling bodies.

She listened, purring when they hit the ground with two cracks.

 

Three men.

 

Diving quickly, she only slowed down by a fraction as she used one man’s body to break the last of her fall. She flared her wings to also stop impact.

 

Two men.

 

Not knowing where the sergeant had run off to, she stood on her hind legs, punching the second-to-last man in the chest, claws going straight through and collapsing the heart.

Sovelia reveled in the light that faded from the soldiers eyes.

 

One man.

 

*

 

The demon was going to come for him, thought the sergeant, and she was going to kill him, like she had his dragon, beautiful Ephia, by exploding her stomach. Hiding in the corner of the closest he was going to come to safety he decided, hopefully give him enough time to radio in some help, or collect all the bodies.

The sergeant grabbed his radio, his fingers fumbling to get the switches working.

 

“This is Sgt. Wilkinson,” he began, but he cut off, seeing the blood covered demon-dragon standing in the doorway.

 

She casually stepped forward, kicking the Sergeant in the arm, breaking the humorous so he couldn’t get his gun out without moving a lot. He cried out as she cocked her head, listening to the reply.

 

_“What do you need Sarge?”_

 

She smiled. What a devil creature.

She turned her back on him to place the radio at the doorway. Wilkinson didn’t even bother trying to get his gun, he just silently wept for his crew.

She came back to him, bullet wound in her thigh and arm tweaking she got down to her knees.

 

She touched the sergeant’s shoulder in a mocking way.

 

“When you get back, tell your superiors about how you let a whole platoon die at my hands,” she murmured, placing a blood stained kiss on his forehead.

The sergeant thought about grabbing her around the throat and throttling her, but he couldn’t move.

 

The she-devil stood, patting the Wilkinson’s head twice before going and picking up the radio.

 

“This is Moriarty,” she said in a chirpy tone.

 

_“Who the hell are you?!”_

 

“Now don’t be rude, I’m just letting you know to come to the town of Arbil to collect some bodies,” she said pleasantly.

_“Excuse you? What do you mean bodies?!”_

“A body count of two dragons and fourteen men. Bring a medic; Sargy is a bit shaken up.” She gave the thumbs up to the silent form in the corner

 

_“What do you mean bod-“_

Dropping the radio on the ground and crushing it, she waved happily to the shocked Wilkinson.

She walked out, spreading her wings and taking off. The heat off the day was kind of getting to her now.

She had written words on one of the walls in blood.

 

**_JOHN AND SHERLOCK…. HIIIIIIIIII._ **

 


	3. Finally Captured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um yeah school has started so posting might be slightly sporadic im sorry. But I hope this will make up for it :D

It didn’t take long for a full search to go out for Moriarty. Multiple platoons were sent out, looking for clues to where the dragon went. During that time, Sergeant Wilkinson, was put into intensive therapy, mumbling about rainbow dragons and demon girls.

They eventually found her two weeks later, back in Arbil, hiding in one of the abandoned buildings. She woke up, wounds almost fully healed, in a complete rage. The soldiers were slightly more prepared this time though.

 

She took down three man and one dragon before the ten tazers hit their mark on each bit of her body. As she writhed on the floor, hissing and keening, a well shot tranquilizer got her in the neck, and she fell silent.

They took her to containment capitol, Herat, where many high profile enemies were kept. She was strung up in a heated cell, shackles above her head.

When she awoke, her first reaction was to get away. The girth of the manacles made it impossible to shift, and she fought extremely hard against them, twisting and screaming like a rabid dog.

 

Whenever someone came in to the cell, planning to talk to her, she immediately flew into attacking them verbally. Whether there was a dragon or not, she would curse them in her own tongue and in English, swapping between the two languages with ease.

She hardly slept, most of the time trying to pull out of the room; the heat was terrible, or screaming.

There were a lot of tranquilizers shot in, the people watching her eventually getting sick of the noise.

 

****

 

John was contacted immediately. The message in blood was a huge concern, and it had got to John quite early that Moriarty was interested in him. The message was signed from General Perkins himself, one of the highest ranking generals in this war, though the direct message was relayed by a secretary.

 

_“We would ask of you to come and try to communicate with Moriarty, as we have her in custody, and she has already expressed an interest in you and your dragon. You will get a sum of money as reward if you do get her to speak, and we might reconsider the length of your service for the army if you make any substantial progress.”_  
  


It was a no-brainer really. He got on the plane with Sherlock by his side, and left for Herat.

 

****

 

John landed in Herat, immediately surrounded by important looking people with clip boards.

“We thought you would arrive,” said a small woman who introduced herself as Clara. “We thought that since you were able to tame Sherlock, and you also have her medical, we agreed as a group that you would be suited for the job.”

Sherlock was bristling next to him, staying quiet but sending John messages through their link.

 

**_Don’t trust any of them._ **

****

**_Get the dragon to talk and then get out of here._ **

****

**_There is too much politician business tied to this._ **

****

John silently agreed. He was here to get his service length reduced, not for any other reason.

John was led into a tall building, with glass lining it to the top floor. He got inside, walking to an elevator, inspecting the foyer and frowning. It looked like a bank, with happy people going up to the cubicles and withdrawing and smiling and being polite. The elevator doors closed, and Clara pressed a button labeled **HC**. She waved her card in front of it, and the elevator began to move.

 

The other people that had met with him left them with only Clara, and they got out on floor **HC** , and John blinked at the brightness of it all.

Everything was white. The floor, the walls, the screens on the desks. One was labeled Holding Cell 1, and John raised his eyebrows. Holding Cell Floor then.

He saw one of the cells had a small looking dragon tied to a chair, and it looked like it was screaming as a type of liquid was dripped onto it, but there was no noise coming from the video.

 

Sherlock hissed at the footage.

 

**_They’re burning that dragon with hydrochloric acid._ **

 

Came his voice, and John winced, turning away from the screen as he saw the dragon’s human skin burn away.

 

There were no windows around them, and John realized that they were underground. The bank was just a cover for the cells that held the prisoners of war.

It took a few minutes to be led to a secluded room. The two of them were ushered into a room, and they looked through the window, watching Moriarty as she hung just off the ground, the white walls behind her wrists flecked with the blood that also dripped down her arms. Her head was hung, breathing slowly, but as soon as John began to speak her head snapped up, icy eyes flicking aimlessly around the wall opposite her.

 

“This is a one-way mirror right?” he asked quietly, directing the question to the person in the white lab coat, who was sitting at a desk, scribbling things on a piece of paper in front of him. He had short brown hair, flicked up out of his eyes. He could be around thirty-one, but his hair had too much grey in it to be so. His brown eyes looked tired, but alight.

The scientist started, like he only just realized that he had company.

He stood, holding out a hand to John, and after he shook it, out to Sherlock, who frowned but shook it in greeting.

 

**_He respects us._ **

 

John nodded, repeating the question.

The scientist nodded. “Yes it is, and though it’s supposed to be sound proof, Moriarty here can seem to hear us.”

The dragon grinned, waving slightly with one hand as well as she could.

The scientist shuddered. “I am the head dragon researcher in Herat, Dr. Benjamin Scott,” he explained, in an American accent, before going back to his notes. “Moriarty has displayed the normal tendencies of a dragon, but her physical capabilities seem to have been doubled, tripled in some areas. Her hearing is better than normal, as is her strength.” He sighed, crossing something out.

 

“We’ve had to reinforce her shackles twice; she’s gotten that close to snapping them. I wanted to do multiple observatory tests on her when they brought her in, she’s so fascinating, but they wanted her contained as soon as possible.” Benjamin explained, a small sound of longing in his voice. “I tried interviewing her but she doesn’t say anything other than damning me to hell with my whole entire kin.”

 

He looked up, running his fingers through his hair, and scratching the small amount of stubble on his chin. “She doesn’t even respond to other methods,” he added lowly, flicking a switch on the console in front of him. His tone said he didn’t approve of these methods, and it didn’t take John long to realize he meant torture.

“You actually harmed her?” John asked, a disbelieving statement.

Benjamin nodded solemnly. “When I realized that she didn’t respond to it, I made sure they stopped. Horrible, some of these people. The way they treat these creatures.” He said the last bit quietly, eyes flicking briefly to Clara, but she was too engrossed in observing Moriarty.

 

John nodded slightly. He had always felt the same.

He felt Sherlock’s eyes on him, but in the dark room it was the flashing lights on the console that caught his eye. “What do they do?” John asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“Temperature, half-poison gases, high pitched noises. Anything that might create discomfort to the occupier.” Came the reply.

 

They all froze when a light voice came in over the speakers.

“Joooooooohn, come in and visit will you?” it sang, and Benjamin wrote the words quickly. John noticed that the words had an Irish tinge to it, seeing as this was the first time he had heard and he wasn’t terrified for his life.

Benjamin was typing things in a tablet, sending away little messages with practiced efficiency.

 

“This is the first sentence she has spoken without swearing,” he explained, touching a red button and turning some other dials. “Date: Thirtieth of August, time: oh ten hundred. Observer, Head of Research, Doctor Benjamin Scott,” he said into a small microphone on the console hurriedly, stepping back as the prisoner spoke again.

“You came to visit, so come on in Johnny,” she called, eyes gazing into the mirror with a blurry intensity.

 

John looked at the scientist, and he nodded, opening the door, hearing Benjamin tell Sherlock to stay in the observing room. “You might set her off, John’s safe in there, she’s contained.” Sherlock’s grumble in reply was cut off by the door closing behind him.

Moriarty stayed quiet as John let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the room. John stood in front of the dragon, unsure of what to do.

 

Moriarty grinned, teeth unusually white for a prisoner. “Hiya,” she greeted cheerily, doing her distorted wave again. John was reminded of a shark. Her blue eyes sparkled. “How are you today?” she asked, and John was unsure if this dragon was the mass killer he had heard on the radio.

“You killed all of those people.” John stated, ignoring pleasantries.

The dragon nodded, lips lopsided. “Yes, I needed a way of getting noticed.” She smiled, though it didn’t truly meet her eyes. “It worked! Did you know they had a high priority warrant for my arrest?” she sounded gleeful.

 

Her brow was sweating, and her breath was quite shallow, yet she was still very able to have a presence that filled a room. John pursed his lips.

“Those men had families,” John said, hoping on maybe tugging at a heart string.

Moriarty’s face went blank. “So did I, but your kind killed them,” she smiled again, “so it’s only fair.”

John shook his head, expression solemn. “Murder is never retribution,” he explained quietly.

Moriarty sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flick of the head. It looked thoroughly clean, apart from the knotted bits.

 

“I feel like they got what they deserved,” she said, eyes wide with mock innocence.

“They did nothing to you,” John quipped back, “They were just on patrol.”

“They were looking for my brothers,” she replied calmly, but John felt the tension steadily building.

“And now families are grieving because people have been murdered,” John replied with equal calm, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“It will happen again. People murder, people die,” Moriarty stated calmly, eyes flashing.

 

“And how do you know that?” John asked, and he knew he had asked exactly what she had wanted him to.

“Because that’s what people DO!” she exploded, lashing forward with her whole body, teeth growing sharp in her mouth and pupils narrowing in a predatory way.

John flinched backwards, taking a couple of steps backwards as the door flew open. Sherlock landed in between the two of them, hissing and growling.

 

“Nice of you to join us,” Moriarty said, leaning back against the wall, calm again. Her eyes and teeth effortlessly went back to normal.

 

**_You try and hurt John again, and I will end you._ **

 

He spat it in his mind, not letting John hear him threaten her.

Moriarty gave a small smile, before Sherlock fell to the ground as she talked to him so loudly John fell too, and both Benjamin and Clara flinched.

 

**_ HOW ADORABLE. _ **

She screeched mentally, in a pitch that Sherlock hadn’t heard before. It pulled at every nerve in his being, and the strength of it made the dragons around the floor building grow uneasy and look at each other worriedly as she also let out screeches out loud too. It was an inhuman noise. John covered his ears, groaning and curling into a ball.

 

**_ YOU SPEAK TO YOUR OWN KIND LIKE SCUM, PATHETIC BLOOD TRAITOR. _ **

 

It was demonic, the words that stung and pierced every mind in close vicinity. In the observation room, Benjamin was typing something on his tablet, wincing as his mind felt like it was on fire.

 

_‘Such telepathic ability has been unheard of yet. The noises she is creating verbally should be impossible, and it seems to travel through the walls around her. Might be affecting other dragons. Possibly a magical act.’_

That was all he could manage. He choked out a sob, falling off his chair with his hands over his ears.

 

**_ YOU SHOULD BE HELPING ME, BUT YOU THREATEN ME INSTEAD. _ **

**__ **

Clara was crying silently. She had never been touched by a dragon’s mind ever, and this was painful and extremely overwhelming. In the main room, dragons were keening quietly as the words got to them. The Holding Cell Five screen image was shattered and covered in static. A few of the technicians were rubbing their temples, a lot of the workers suddenly plagued by terrible headaches.

 

**_ PATHETIC. I BET YOUR MASTER IS A GOOD FUCK THOUGH. _ **

**__ **

Sherlock was moaning, crawling over to John, wrapping his body around John’s in a feeble attempt to protect him.

 

**_ IS THAT WHY YOU PROTECT HIM? HE GIVES GOOD HEAD? _ **

**__ **

Through the noises she was creating, there was a twisted version of laughter.

 

**_ YOU ENJOY BEING PETS DON’T YOU? _ **

 

She called out with her mind, stretching it as far as she could, touching the minds of every dragon that were close enough. They all flinched, and though the humans could hear some sort of screeching in their ears, they couldn’t figure out any words. It was dragon tongue. The dragons who could hear it were wild eyes, not sure what was going on, why they felt like running away in a mad panic.

 

**_ FEEL FREE TO AID ME IF YOU FEEL LIKE BEING PROPER DRAGONS, INSTEAD OF SLAVES. _ **

 

The noises cut off, and Moriarty hung her head. She was extremely drained, and her heart was beating at an impossible rate. John and Sherlock were still wrapped around each other.

Moriarty fell unconscious with laughter on her lips.


	4. Ice Burns Like Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote this up after writing segments of it.  
> I seriously hope this is good.  
> Um... there are actually a lot of people reading this... *blushes and hides*
> 
> Enjoy this and sorry for hiatusing. I'm trying to get into authory mood lately.
> 
> Ilyasm
> 
> Sorry if you were rooting for Moriarty too...

 

“To kill her would be a crime!” Doctor Scott almost yelled. John stood in the corner of the room, Sherlock bristling beside him with a bored grey on his wings.

 

**_Either they kill her or not, hurry up and make a decision._ **

****

His mind drawled, and John silently agreed. The discussion had been going on for over an hour, with Benjamin and his team arguing for the life of the dragon, while the board put up a fight. The conversation had gone full circle, and they were now back to square one.

“We’ve explained this already Doctor,” the short haired blonde at the head of the table said, her tone calm but hiding an extreme amount of stress. The woman was Ulrika Statmond, deputy head of the facility. Statmond was normally a kind woman, that was how she got to the position she was in, but right now her dark blue eyes were flaming. “She almost incapacitated the whole staff; she’s a danger to everyone in close vicinity.”

Scott groaned. “ _Exactly_. If we can study her power and how she became to be so strong we might be able to make our own forces learn the same. We’d be unstoppable!” There was a quiet chorus of agreement from the team of researchers behind him.

 

John let out an audible sigh to which caused Statmond and the rest of the suited men to turn to the doctor.

“You’re only here because you seem to be of interest to the dragon Mr. Watson,” quipped a rather beady looking man in a suit that made him look like Mr. Potato Head. “Is something wrong?”

John looked around the room. “Well…” he said, tilting his head. “You’re either going to kill her or not, and the board is deciding…” he made a face. He decided his opinion wouldn’t hurt “Maybe she could be reasoned with.”

A few pairs of eyes trained on Sherlock, and the brunette let out a small hiss.

Statmond spoke. “You were able to train him,” the woman said slowly gesturing to the Northern, and a low growl began to build in Sherlock’s throat, but John hushed him.

 

“Are you suggesting I train _Moriarty_?” he asked, stifling a surprised chuckle. That’s not what he was suggesting at all. He shook his head slowly. “Did you even _see_ what she was capable of?”

Statmond nodded, smirking slightly. “Then it’s decided. The Dragon dies.”

 

“NO!” The chorus of complaint came from the researcher’s side of the room

 

Everyone turned to look at Dr. Scott. He walked towards the soldier, putting his hands slowly on his shoulders. “You cannot let her die!” he hissed desperately. “She needs to _live_.”

John pursed his lips. “She’ll try and kill me… Sherlock too.”

The doctor shook his head. “I’ve had a conversation with her, she won’t I swear. On my life.” It seemed like there was a mad glint in the doctors eye, a sort of manic desperation, but John blinked and the glint was gone. “John, please.”

 

John raised a skeptical eyebrow. They weren’t at the stage of calling each other by their first names.  “You had a conversation with her?”

The head of board echoed him. “You had an authorized conversation with her? Was it filmed?”

Dr. Scott paled. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He gave a half hearted shrug. His gaze flicked to John again. “But that’s not what we’re talking about. Dr. Watson, you have to believe me.”

 

John was trying to decide when Sherlock’s voice came into his mind.

 

**_That man is up to something. He is rather twitchy and seems rather frantic to keep that creature alive._ **

****

_What do you think?_

There was a pause.

 

**_I don’t want someone as mad as her to stay alive, but I don’t want a magnificent dragon to be killed. I am of a neutral perspective I’m afraid. The choice is yours._ **

****

John let out a sigh, though everyone else in the room had no idea why. The soldier and his dragon had perfected the silent communication while still in training, so no other Thralls could hear them speaking if they needed to stay quiet. “I’ll try to help,” he said eventually, but added, “If she hurts anyone I swear I will kill her myself.” The tone in the blonde’s voice was non-negotiable.

You could hear the tension in the room disperse now the decision was made. Statmond stood, as did the rest of the suited people, while Dr. Scott looked like he was about to start dancing where he was standing.

****

“Oh and one more condition,” John added, a small smile touching his lips. “I expect a pay raise.” He motioned to Sherlock and they both left the room to prepare for the new dragon, which supposedly wasn’t going to kill them.

 

_ Two Days Earlier _

__

Sovelia practically purred as the regained consciousness. She was pleased with her own brilliance, and because the room was cleared, she supposed that her mind trick was suitable in clearing it out. Soon the debate for her life would begin, that much was obvious, and she would need someone on her side. She smiled at the two sided glass, narrowing her pupils so she could see the human behind it.

 

“Come to me,” she beckoned, fluttering her eyelashes.

 

The intercom crackled on. _“Why should I? You’re just going to hurt everyone again.”_

Sovelia shook her head, chuckling. “I just want a pleasant chat. I’ve gotten over my hissy-fit, I promise all I want to do is talk.” The dragon had always considered herself a talented liar, and as the doctor walked into the room, her thoughts were confirmed.

 

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at her, and the dragon smiled pleasantly in return.

“What do you want to talk about then?” he snapped, and Sovelia tilted her head, pouting contemplatively.

“Well,” she said slowly, as if she was deciding still. “I think I’ll have a conversation when the cameras are off.” She nodded to the blinking red light in the corner, attached to a camera.

Benjamin shook his head, scoffing. “You can forget it; I’m not risking my life with you in here.” He turned away, but stopped at a noise from the dragon.

 

“What I have to say would greatly help you with your research.” She said slowly, wriggling her nose as her dark hair fell forward to obscure her face. She blew it away with a well aimed breath, watching the doctor, who was hesitating.

“Steps and steps forward,” she continued, grinning.

Benjamin took a small breath, and being a rather cautious man, decided to secure his life. “If you hurt me they will not hesitate to do the same plus more,” he warned.

 

Sovelia smiled. “Oh well of course,” her grin melted into a charming smile. “All I want to do is talk.” Now her tone was slightly tense.

The doctor narrowed his eyes, before giving a terse nod and heading out of the room.

The dragon watched the flickering red light turn off. She waited until the doctor reentered, and beckoned him forward.

Dr. Scott shook his head. “I am not coming near you; do you think I’m stupid?”

The dragon huffed. “I am not going to harm you! What would I gain from doing so? Nothing. It would be a waste of time for both of us, and believe when I say I do not waste time. Ever.”  


The doctor waited a few seconds, then took a few steps forward. Sovelia rolled her eyes.

“I can’t bite you from here, and I don’t plan to. How unhygienic.”

Benjamin gave a hard glare, but the dragon could smell his fear. It was perfect. “Just come to be in front of me, you do know it’s rude not to look into a prisoners eyes when they divulge their secrets.”

The doctors eyes sparked at that. To have a chance at being the one to know the secrets of her power… He couldn’t resist.

Against all sense of self preservation, he walked forward, and watched as the dragon closed her eyes. He frowned, stopping in front her, instinct telling him to move, but her eyes flicked open, meeting his gaze.

 

They were plain black, through and through, and immediately they held him in place. It spiked a cold fear right through the researcher, and the frozen laugh he heard in his mind was sure to stop his heart.

 

**_Do not be so afraid. I am only going to talk._ **

The black eyes glistened terribly, and Sovelia grinned, canines pointed.

 

**_First I do want to commend you on your gullibility._ **

Doctor Scott let out a pained whine. His mind was far too cold; it was seeping through his body.

Sovelia barked a laugh, pushing the icy tendrils into the depths of his mind, twisting memories of kind things into dark ones.

“Stop,” came a croak, as a memory of his youngest sister got turned into a murder. How was she doing this? “I’ll do whatever you want, just get out.” All the doctor could see was black eyes. Nothing else.

There came laughter deep in his mind.

 

**_Would you care to make a deal?_ **

“Yes! Get out! Get out!” Ice could burn just like fire, but it was numbing other parts of him. Burning and numb. Of course, he would do anything to escape this. Anything not to experience it again also.

 

**_It’s very simple. Even you could understand it._ **

****

“I agree!” There were probably tears running down his face. The doctor couldn’t tell. In the corners of his mind he heard her speak, like an omnipresent being and all powerful deity she took from him. His will, his freedom. He supposed he was her puppet now.

 

 ** _This room is a haven. Any dragon visits me, the camera is turned on loop. Any conversation is not recorded. No ideas are shared, no words. Any information of mine is leaked…_** A terrible laugh, so terrible, **_No one will be able to salvage your wrecked mind. Do you understand?_**

****

“YES! I agree! GET OUT!”

And he was released. Like resurfacing from being under water too long, Doctor Scott took long breaths, watching the calm eyes that had returned to their calm ice. Her face held a calm lopsided smile.

“Pleasant chat doctor. I think I will keep you.”

Benjamin was breathing in shuddered intervals. He could feel her, lying dormant in a shelf of his skull. If he didn’t obey he would die.

 

“You’re sick,” he snapped feebly, backing away

The dragon shrugged as deeply as she could in chains. “That may be so, but by hiding this you will be sick too.”

She paused, seeming to think. “And keep John Watson in contact with me, whatever it takes.”

There was a moment of tense silence before there was a terse reply, thick and full of dry sarcasm.

 

“Your wish is my command.”


	5. True Love is Faked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eugh it's an apologetic shitty chapter that's short and kinda ew, I'm really sorry, I've just not been very motivated to write this style of stuff. Super sorry guys, I'll try so hard to keep posting regularly, though don't hold me to that.
> 
> This chapter shows us that Moriarty is able to manipulate anyone and everyone.   
> Thanks guys, hope you enjoy!

First day. Moriarty had laughed in scorn at the doctor and would snap and bite at him.

First day. Sovelia had to seem like she was putting up some sort of fight to this idea. It was all going to plan.

 

Three days. John was able to pull a brush through the dragon’s hair. The book wasn’t helping much, she was too mad. Three days. She was not speaking to him yet, not even telepathy was working. Her mind was completely silent.

Soon she would start to open up.

 

One week. John was able to get Moriarty off the wall and into a bath. He was able to feed her meat. They still didn’t talk, but little calm noises from John seemed to help the crazy dissipate.

One week. What weird noises he was making. She would get in the bath for a soldier any day. Why didn’t he ask earlier, he was pretty when he flushed.

 

Nine days. She’d seen Sherlock and went crazy. Sherlock on the other hand became furious. John was his why was he spending more time with her?

Nine days. The act had gone well. Sherlock went mad and he would bite her head off. More work for John. He needed to be somewhat weary.

 

Two weeks. Sherlock could actually come into Moriarty’s cell without either of them flipping their lids. It had been very tense in the room, but they’d managed a few civil sentences before Sherlock needed a break.

Two weeks. Sherlock was also pretty when he flushed. It was kind of ruined when he yelled.

 

***

John had retired for the day, after having some success with Moriarty and for the first time running a brush through her hair. It had been tense, but he’d been able to do her whole head of inky black hair, and when he had finished, he felt that he didn’t want to push his luck. She was talking more openly now too, with less malice and sarcasm. All in good time.

 

It was Sovelia’s first notification that she was seeing her visitor again when the blinking light on the security camera went out. She was sat nicely on the cot that had recently been put in, and the dragon let two horns protrude from her lovely soft black hair. They were a deep purple, showing how she felt. Superior.

 

As soon as the door opened a Chinese Dragon fell to her knees just before the cot. Her dyed blonde hair fell over her eyes as Sovelia watched happily. She had come the second day, begging for audience, a chance to meet the powerful ‘Queen’, or so the little dragon thought. Sovelia tilted her head. “Stand my love,” she murmured, eyes sparking with glee at such complete devotion. The petite girl stood, and her brown eyes were filled with something that could only be described as love. That could happen sometimes, when a young girl was led on by someone who she happened to adore.

 

It was almost terrible, actually, that the Northern dragon hadn’t bothered to learn the girl’s name, she just couldn’t see herself worried at this fact.

“Why did you come today?” The older dragon hummed, grabbing onto the girl’s hands and looking into her brown eyes. She heard the breath hitch, and tilted her head.

“I came to tell you of a plan I heard of my Master,” she said, little cheeks flaming already as she watched the elder.

 

Sovelia raised her eyebrows, before providing a winning grin. “Of course. Do tell.”

The small dragon started trembling with the excitement of helping. “They were discussing that maybe they could negotiate a deal with you.” Sovelia raised a brow. “They said you get to have a fly if you release any information on the rebels.” The little dragon grinned, almost asking for praise.

Sovelia, a kind soul, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the little girl’s lips. She squeaked, and the northern fought to urge to roll her eyes. Rather pathetic.

 

“Thank you,” she breathed, smiling.

The other dragon grinned, gripping the taller dragon’s hands tightly. “It was no problem,” she said, but quickly flicked her gaze away. She caught her lip, swallowing. “I’m so sorry my queen, but I have to get back.” Her eyes welled up slightly, and she pouted, looking worried.

Sovelia shook her head. “It’s absolutely fine, you go back.” She paused carefully, moving her hand to the other’s cheek, wiping it with her thumb. “But you to come back when you hear that the deal is made. I might need your help.”

 

The other blinked quickly, the tears disappearing. “Of course, I will!” She jumped up to her tip-toes, pressing a quick kiss to Sovelia’s cheek, and she barely managed to smile instead of scowl.

“Goodbye my love,” she hummed, delaying the departure by holding on for as long as she could before letting go. She smiled until the door was shut, then she let the scowl show itself, sitting down heavily in the same position until the red light flickered back on. Good ol’ Benjamin.

 

The dragon lay back in her cot, waiting for the next visitor.


	6. Dirty Deals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while trying to write a normal length chapter I've realized that my concentration and motivation for that doesn't last long enough to do a long chapter, so from now on I think the rest of my chapters will be little, I'm sorry :'(
> 
> BUT AAANYWAY
> 
> update woo  
> plz try to enjoy xx

“So you’re telling me that you’ll give us rebel information,” the fat toad of a man drawled as a statement, disbelief lacing his tone, and Sovelia let out a drawn sigh.

“Yes, that’s what I said, now does that sound appealing to you or are you letting a very rare opportunity slip through your fingers?” she asked, not worrying about the intense gazes Sherlock and John were giving her. Sherlock’s was the most distrustful, but it seemed John was of the same brain wave.

The Head of Rebel Intelligence, or as Sovelia had dubbed him, the Toad, sighed, his jowls moving with the breath, and nodded resignedly. “Yes, yes of course.”

 

Sovelia grinned, she’d known how desperate this side of the war wanted this information, it was the perfect playing card to lie on the table. Knowledge was power, and these humans were hungry for it in a way that was almost self-destructive. Her bright eyes flashed, but they darkened somewhat when John spoke up.

“What is it you want in return?” he asked, voice showing very clear that he knew what she was doing. Of course he didn’t trust her, how could he? She was still a lying little snake, and as soon as someone gave her leeway she was going to do something bad. It was like a feeling in his gut that he couldn’t get rid of, and Sherlock was obviously feeling the same way, the link between them pulsing with uncertainty, which John fought to keep calm.

 

The female sighed, clicking her tongue. “You caught me there boys, you did,” her Irish lilt stated, leaning back on her cot, the two horn poking out from her hair flashing a cool blue. “I do want something, but I’m sure it won’t be too hard to grant.”

“What is it?” came a unified question from both John and the fat man.

“I just want to go outside, fly around a bit. It gets very cramped in here you know,” she said, smile touching the corners of her lips as she looked at everyone in the room.

 

Yes, it had been a brilliant idea, calling this meeting, Sovelia had decided. They were pretty much eating out of the palm of her hand. The only planning she needed to do was how lenient with the flight they’d be. “I know, I know,” she sighed, placing her hands in her lap with a little pout, “I’m sure you’ll want me tied up to something. I just want to go outside.” Her lip curled a fraction, and the Toad grunted. How he had ever got to the position he had, the dragon was clueless.

“A chain. Thick, ice-proof, holding you in place. You get ten minutes. That’s all I’ll allow,” Toad said, and Sovelia blinked, looking flatly at him.

 

“Fifteen, or no dice,” she said, and grinned as the man nodded after a moment of deliberation, double chin wiggling happily.

“Fine. Tomorrow, at six thirty, you’ll be brought up. There better be no funny business, or I’ll have your head, information or no.” The man stood with difficulty, and Sovelia fought the urge to gag at the sight of him. When he’d struggled out the doorway, she looked to the pair across the room.

“This’ll be fun, don’t you think boys?” she asked, and the pair left the room, not replying, expressions unreadable as they did so.

 

Sovelia sighed, and sent a call for her little minion.

 

***

**_We’ll have to be there tomorrow morning won’t we John._ **

****

_Of course. She’s up to something, even if others can’t see it._

**_I just wish you hadn’t saved her._ **

****

_You and me both Sherlock, you and me both._

***

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do what you ask my Queen,” the little woman said, and Sovelia raised a careful eyebrow, letting her expression flatten out slightly.

“Doesn’t your master work in the building part of this entire organization?” The Northern dragon asked disbelievingly, finger nails growing slightly into claws unknowingly as she grew annoyed.

The Chinese dragon’s bottom lip quivered, and she sniffed, but ended up nodding.

Sovelia let out a tight breath, and looked at the smaller female almost tiredly.

 

“You can convince him to use a specific length of chain can’t you?” Sovelia asked, getting more and more riled up the longer she was not given a solution.

The girl let out a squeak, not having seen this side of her love before. It was sharper, more insistent, and demanded to be heard.

“I don’t know if-“

“No, listen to me, I need this done. _Find_ a way to do as I wish, or what you want will not be available to you.” Sovelia snapped, finally at the end of her tether. “I apologize, but I need this done.”

 

The girl felt like she was about to cry, but she had to do as her Queen asked. There was no way she’s allow herself to disappoint her love, she couldn’t leave it be. Sovelia had promised marriage, a happy ending, a way out of this terrible war, she couldn’t fail her.

Sovelia watched, not saying anything else as she waited for the actually pathetically gullible and stupid young woman to agree, which she did, eventually, voice shaking.

 

“I will find a way. Come tomorrow morning, what you have asked will be done.” She smiled softly as Sovelia tilted her head, moving her hand forward to run it through those disgustingly straw-like strands of hair.

“Thank you, my love,” she purred, then ushered the woman to the door. “Run along my dear, you have a lot of things to do.” The Northern dragon smiled until the door was shut, then her smile dropped off as if it was never there. Sovelia was sure with herself.

She hadn’t said it out loud, but if her little minion didn’t do as she’s asked, there were going to be consequences.


	7. Escape and Betray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww yeah its an update! Be warned, there's death and stuff in this. Keep yourselves safe! xoxoxox

A quarter of an hour before Sovelia was to have her little outside payment, her little pet came in and explained what she had done. It was straight forward, easy enough to understand, and it made the Northern dragon purr as she brought the shorter woman into her arms to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. What Sovelia managed to not include as she bid her farewell, well, was that it would be permanent.

 

***

 

John checked his watch for the fourth time. Moriarty had been in the air for around eight minutes now and she hadn’t tried anything.

 

 _Maybe she had been telling the truth._ He tentatively sent to Sherlock, but he felt a scoff through their link, and that made John’s stomach curl.

 

 ** _Don’t let your guard down until she’s back in her cell,_** was all the dragon sent back, eyes narrowed and tense as he watched, just waiting, careful. The horns poking up from his curls were a bright red; he was prepared to take action if he needed to. He could imagine what the plan would be. Lull the onlookers into a false sense of security for as long as possible, then do something that would take everybody by surprise.

 

***

 

She was waiting for it; the moment where the Warden would tell her time was up. Everyone would be sure she wouldn’t do anything by now, that she was going to behave herself. She flew around, half dragon half humanoid, enjoying the sun on her face as she warmed her wings. If this worked she would need to get somewhere cool though. Her body temperature rising would do nothing to help her. That was why she wasn’t completely shifted. If she was, it would take a lot more energy to keep the larger animal cold.

 

Her visible scales and wings were a superficial orange, though anyone who was watching would mistake the color for happiness or joy at finally getting some fresh air. Not that the dusty air was that fresh at all. It was hurting her chest actually, the pollutants in the air, but she had to act as if she was enjoying herself. She grinned down to everyone, even managing to wave cheerily, and the people who saw seemed confused and waved back half heartedly. That made Sovelia laugh happily, and she saw a couple of the men smiling along with her. Gullible pricks.

 

She, after about the right amount of time, finally heard Toad yelling to her. “Time’s up, come down!” She complied immediately, muscles coiling in anticipation. She almost touched the ground, people coming forward to chain her up, when she morphed completely, causing multiple people to exclaim loudly in surprise. She took off upwards at a frightening speed, and she felt the chain break. Her little pet, finding a link in the chain, put boiling water over it multiple times, over the period of the whole night, weakening said link. When the chain went taught, it only pulled her back slightly, choking her dragon form for a moment before snapping.

 

A length of the metal still hung from her throat, but Sovelia roared loudly, immediately heading away from the encampment. She could hear multiple guns going off, but they would do nothing to harm her.

It was only when she felt the tongues of a flame on her back leg that she turned. How typical of the pets to come after her.

 

***

 

Sherlock was off the ground and in his dragon form before John could tell him otherwise. Two other dragons as well, a Chinese and an English, took off as well, though for some reason, the Chinese looked elated to be in the air chasing, her pearly white scales looked vibrate.

The English was closest first, letting out a stream of fire that almost got the other Northern, but she turned and shrieked, taking the English by surprise as she collided with him mid-air, ripping out his stomach with claws of ice and nail. The blood started dropping like rain, and the dragon fell quickly after it, his body mangled and unrecognizable after being attacked by such ferocity.

 

The Chinese was next, but she slowed beside the Northern, rubbing her face up against her flank. Sherlock heard her soft voice as she tried to communicate.

 

_Did I do well? I love you, Queen, I do._

Sherlock’s wings faltered, but he suddenly felt a burst of energy at the fury in his gut. She had been working from the inside. He planned on taking the Chinese down first, but it seemed that Moriarty had the same idea.

The same kind of shriek from a few days previous, one that made Sherlock drop in altitude…

 

**_ YOU WERE ALWAYS SO GULLIBLE. _ **

**__ **

**_ NO… YOU HAVE OUTLIVED YOUR USEFULLNESS. _ **

**__ **

And with that, Moriarty got her claws around the devoted Chinese’s throat, ripping out her trachea with a well placed swipe as she kept her gaze with the smaller dragon.

There was a blood curdling scream of pain, a betrayed, _QUEE-_ , before the blood stuck in her throat and started suffocating her.

 

Moriarty turned a vibrant joyous yellow, seeming to think there was no one else to hinder her escape. The was no way the Anti-Dragon artillery had been set up in time, and Sherlock furiously shook his head to clear it as he flew silently up behind the merciless other. He set up a shard of ice in his throat, making sure he didn’t get too close as he shot it out of his mouth, the projectile flying straight to it’s target as it pierced the wing.

 

Moriarty turned, though the action was sloppy as the air tore the rip open further. Sherlock didn’t expect it, but the female did exactly what she did before with the English dragon. She flew right at him, and Sherlock roared, curling up with quick slicing movements as she tried to hook her claws into the weak spots in his scales. She brought her front leg up, and it was coming down quickly to his eye, but Sherlock turned his head away at the last moment, the already bloody nails raking down the side of his still camouflaged sandy scales. He could smell his blood, and he came back at her with the same amount of viciousness, biting and hacking wherever he could, though she seemed to be giving damage more than she was taking.

 

They were still moving as they fought, away from the encampment, away from John, further into the desert. Their pace was manic and somewhat stilted, their altitude in the cold as they had risen more than they had covered ground. It was only when Moriarty shrieked once more, this time verbally, that they started to drop. Sherlock had got her wing between two ligaments, right on the joint, and had snapped it clean. She was falling now, unable to keep herself in the air. She was falling, but her claws hooked right under Sherlock’s forelegs.

 

She was bringing him to the ground as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Scales and Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo guys :) have a lovely day and I hope you enjoy this update! (p.s Stucky is taking over my life so this was alittle bit of a mission... just kidding it was fun :3)

The explosion of sand that exploded from underneath them when they made contact to the earth was magnificent. Like a fountain of water it slowly drifted down onto the two dragons, coating them with a thin layer.

They didn’t move for a long while.

Sovelia was the first to stand, half humanoid for the moment with her wings extended behind her. She was bruised, cut, and her dark hair was matted in a nest so complicated she’d have it easier to just cut it off.

 

Sherlock was soon after, and Sovelia hadn’t moved from her standing position. He looked up to her, changing slightly so he could hack up a lungful of sand, in his hand that he pulled away there were grains of sand clotted together with blood. She just looked up to him, and watched as he ended up vomiting a dry stomach up. He blinked his icy eyes and shuddered, falling over backwards. He lay on his back, staring up at the bright blue sky for a moment. Sovelia would have appraised him if she wasn’t so goddamn pissed. She stalked over to him, barely acknowledging the pain the movement sent to her wing. Sherlock flinched, but made no move to defend himself. The eye that had almost been ripped out of its socket was swollen shut, the blood still dripping slowly down his face.

 

Sovelia arched an eyebrow. He was rather pitiful in a way. “I could kill you,” she stated simply, before spitting right by his face.

Sherlock sniffed and huffed a laugh. “But you won’t.” He coughed again, and spat up some blood onto where Sovelia had just done so. Internal bleeding, Sovelia absently noted. He’d either die now or die on the way. But she needed him for the moment, that true. Their cooler body temperatures needed to be kept cool, so huddling together would be best.

 

Sovelia let out a loud growl, her pupils narrowing to slits. “Get up,” she snarled, walking over to him and dragging Sherlock up by his arms. The other hissed loudly, but managed to stay on his feet. He should kill her now. Get rid of her then die in the desert. John would survive without him, and the world would be better off without Moriarty in it. Sherlock growled when she started dragging him along. Everything ached, and he didn’t want to move, but Sovelia smiled angelically.

“You need me just as much as I need you, so I’ll keep it slow so you don’t collapse, but you keep up with me and you die? You got it sweetie?” Her voice was gorgeous and soft, with knives that made Sherlock force his legs to step along with her.

 

“Good boy,” she purred, and she made her bare skin morph into scales. Though the weight would make it harder to move, it was better than getting burnt. “Yip yip Sherly,” she started, and sniffed the air, starting in a direction. Sherlock didn’t know how she knew where to go, but she did, and he started limping behind her. Her wing didn’t even seem to be giving her trouble, though it hung dangling by nothing more than a few strands of muscle. She was either in shock or had the greatest pain tolerance. Sherlock didn’t want to know which one it was.

 

Instead he walked.

She walked.

And walked.

 

Sherlock didn’t know how long they did so, but he knew he wasn’t getting enough air to his lungs, and his tongue hung lolling. Sovelia was stumbling more often to, panting like an overly warm dog. The scales that adorned her were bright red, mimicking the heat that covered the pair of them. Her wing swung as they scaled a dune, and Sherlock wanted to kill her. He wanted to get his claws around her throat, he wanted her dead. He imagined himself doing that as he started slipping down the other side of the tower of sand. There was no end to it. There was nothing but. Yet Sovelia kept walking. She stopped to watch Sherlock slide, making no move to go help him, but when the younger dragon tried to make his way back up to her, he slipped right to the bottom three times before curling into a ball and lying still.

 

Everything was far too warm. Everything was hot, he couldn’t move and his vision was swimming even with his eyes shut. He heard Moriarty curse and he looked up. She was skidding down the dune, swearing like a sailor until she got to him, chest heaving in it’s desperation of keeping her alive.

“I think it’s time for a break don’t you?” she offered, and Sherlock groaned half-heartedly, rolling his head back. He hadn’t copied Moriarty’s actions of covering himself, so he was already a bright red.

 

Sovelia didn’t hesitate to put a cold hand on the burning skin, and Sherlock let out a small noise, rolling into the temperature. It surely wasn’t cool enough for a normal Northern, but it was colder than the sand and colder than anything Sherlock could imagine. Sovelia carefully lay down next to Sherlock, careful of her wing, and she wrapped Sherlock up in her arms so carefully Sherlock could almost imagine that it was someone who actually cared for him, someone who wasn’t just keeping alive for her own gain.

 

Sovelia on the other hand, buried her face into Sherlock’s neck, making her skin normal as she tried to cool down. The sun hit its apex and both the dragons pressed themselves as close to each other as they could manage. Sherlock wasn’t even conscious, Sovelia barely just.  Sherlock had rolled so he was facing her, making small mewling noises in his heat induced stupor. Little icicles were forming on the tip of his nose, and Sovelia amused herself by shooting little bursts of frost onto his eyelids. She could feel the sinew in her back working to fix her wing, and supposed the fact that Sherlock was weak was a good moment for her to recuperate.

 

She blew the air onto Sherlock's cut, and flicked her wing when she knew it was good enough to move. Her bruises were fading, and the heat seemed to be receding the longer she held Sherlock to her bosom. His hair was hanging limply, and he wasn’t healing near as quickly as the older dragon was, and she ran her hand over his face, mapping it, silently imagining ways she could ruin it. But no one else needed to know that.

 

Sherlock eventually was able to breathe out little puffs of cool air, She had been right to keep him alive. Her body was almost completely back to normal, porcelain skin helping Sherlock fight the burns. His cuts seemed less inflamed also, and he let out a small playful noise as his dreams turned to ones of his younger self. Sovelia made her wings retract into her back, and just as the tip was plain Sherlock pushed her onto her back. She let out a small noise, and noticed Sherlock’s eyes were still closed. He had small horns poking up out of his hair, and he snapped his pointed teeth at her. The horns were an innocent white, and Moriarty smiled softly. How gorgeous they would be hanging from a chain. She blew a cold breath over his face, causing the dragon above her to giggle like a child.

 

They continued sitting like that for a while, Sherlock straddling her lap and giggling and squealing as she cooled his body down further, running her hand down his toned chest admiringly, but she was soon sick of the child-man, rolling him off her. She entrapped him in her arms, nuzzling his neck again. When night came they’d start up again. Sherlock twitched once more in his sleep, mewling, and Moriarty fell asleep with a lopsided smile in place.

 

Survival was turning into a game.


	9. Home is Where the Heart is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahahaha  
> Update is short but is setting up for excellence... Also, sorry i took ages to do this one. Motivation *fart noises*
> 
> ENJOY XX

She knew where she was going, Sherlock was sure of it. She kept looking at the sun, changing their course multiple times drastically with curses and loud hissing. She knew where they were going. She kept Sherlock with her, they didn’t talk much, but when the heat got too much they both found shade in the towering dunes and cold in each others embrace. Neither would have survived without the other, which probably was why he was still alive. She would have killed him, but she needed him.

 

It was… what, the fifth day Sherlock knew they were almost there. Moriarty kept tripping, kept almost falling onto her face. She was on the home stretch, Sherlock was sure of it. And she dragged him along too, making him keep up with her pace. He could hear her chanting in her head, though this time it was quiet, this was not to intimidate anyone, this was for herself.

 

_Almost, almost, almost, almos-_

The chanting cut off, and Moriarty was squealing in delight. Sherlock was unsure what she was pulling him towards, all he saw was dune after dune after dune, but then he saw it. The sand was shifting, moving out of the way, as if the wind had perfectly timed their arrival and it revealed a huge metal door. Sherlock had slowed down, barely walking now as the doors opened with a loud hiss, they looked brand new, but how could they be? Sherlock watched as a huge man walked out of whatever the doors lead to, and Moriarty flung herself into his arms, sandy wings a vibrant shade of magenta. The man was smiling and grinning, he was surely twice her size, and then he was running his hands over her with a gentleness Sherlock didn’t think someone so large could possess.

 

She batted his hand away, wings quickly turning an annoyed shade of red, and the man stepped away, looking sheepish. Moriarty seemed to deflate, and then turned, pointing to Sherlock who was on the dune over. Sherlock felt his wings spread out defensively, but when they both started walking slowly towards him, hands out, he didn’t feel so threatened. She’d kept him alive hadn’t she? And now they were at a safe place, he could just tell. Maybe he should just…

 

Sherlock’s wings were a cautious yellow as he walked down the dune, meeting the pair in the middle. The tall man, now only just as tall as Sherlock it seemed, held out a hand, to which Sherlock tentatively took and shook.

“Sebastian,” the dusty blond said, and Sherlock did not let the color remind him of John. John was far away, probably freaking out, but he’d get back to him. He would. “But my friends call me Seb. You can call me Seb.”

 

Both of the people smiled and laughed, and Sherlock could almost forget that Moriarty had mercilessly killed over a dozen people that he knew of. They looked… Just like a couple. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. They were standing awfully close to one another, and the way they’d had their reunion. There was something there, Sherlock was sure of it.

 

Moriarty caught Sherlock’s wrist, pulling him forward towards the bunker. Sebastian took the other side, and Sherlock definitely now felt like he was being lead to the executioner. Deep down, he knew he should be fighting, but days of no food and no pleasant company had taken its toll on him. The doors had stayed open, and as Sherlock stepped into the cold he felt himself lose whatever will power he had left.

 

***

 

Sovelia smiled when Sherlock was in the ice bath, pulling Seb to her and pulling him down to her height. She leaned in until her lips were just touching his, and he was almost mewling for it. What a filthy whore. “Get me some clothes, a first aid kit, and some food for the both of us would you?” She asked, pouting slightly when her man hesitated. “Please?” She added, and Seb let out a huff.

 

“I’ll be right back love,” he called over his shoulder, and when he was out of sight Sovelia moved to the bathroom cabinet, taking out a small bottle of pills. She moved back to Sherlock and slid a small pill through his lips, not moving away until he swallowed instinctively. It wouldn’t hurt him, it was just a slight sedative, to keep him calm. She wouldn’t give him anything strong until he could handle it. She would have, if not for her assistant’s slight bit of a heart.

 

No, Sherlock wouldn’t become a pawn just yet. But soon.

 


	10. A Mother's Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry these updates are so far apart :( I can't seem to get them right and I never feel like they're good enough... u.u  
> Anyway, here this one is... THE PLOT THICKENS
> 
> ENJOY XX

Sherlock was comfortable and cool, full and not in pain. At first that’s all he could recognize, all he could comprehend, until he smelt the dust, antiseptic and actual food. It made his mouth water, and his eyes flicked open. He wasn’t overly warm, and it seemed like the sounds and sights were muted, making everything seem just a little more bearable. Sherlock sat up slowly, feeling creaky, and that was when he realized someone was sitting next to him. Moriarty sat, nail file in her hand, looking the best she ever had.

 

Her hair was clean flowing down her shoulder, her light blue eyes sparkling in the artificial light. She seemed to be sitting in the fog of liquid nitrogen, and her wings were spread out behind her, a calm white that matched the rest of the setting around her. She smiled when Sherlock looked up, and if the man had been slightly more aware, he would have felt like a gazelle under the gaze of a lion. Instead, he smiled lazily, blinking slowly at her. “Where are we?” He asked, tongue heavy in his mouth. Moriarty smiled, lifting her hand up, which held a crushed ice slushie thing… Her voice purred temptingly around the room they were in, some kind of ice cold marble room, like a fridge, but with furniture.

 

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

 

***

 

In all honesty Sherlock thought the home was an architectural marvel, hidden entirely from the outside unless you knew what to look for. While it was boiling outside, the inside was kept at a lovely 30 degrees Fahrenheit/negative 1 Celsius  Most of the rooms anyway, a few of the rooms accommodated for non-northerns, the man, Sebastian, mostly. The one Moriarty had placed Sherlock in was marble, the most comfortable he had been since joining this goddamn war.

 

There were multiple times where Sherlock tried to think about what he was doing here, why he felt wrong smiling and eating dinner with two strangers. A name kept nagging at the back of his mind. John. But whenever he tried to grasp onto the memories they slipped away through his fingers like ethereal ghosts. So Sherlock kept doing what he was asked to, let Moriarty dress his wounds, bath him, keep him cool, and in return she let him read her unusual sets of books. He didn’t understand the symbols in them, but those were the books she gave him, and the symbols did tug at him, they made him stare and turn the page like he was actually reading. Slowly but surely a pressure was building in base of his skull, he was sure it was from the symbols, but mostly he couldn’t keep his train of thought long enough to figure it out. It didn’t matter anyway. He was comfortable and safe and deliciously unaware. Why would he worry when there was nothing to worry about?

 

***

 

Sovelia lay on the ice, lollipop in hand, completely bare as Sebastian, all dressed up in his winter woolies, did her toe nails.

“So he’s almost ready?” He asked, watching Sovelia lick carefully around the sweet, having been entirely into their stash of lollies since the second day in. They’d now been home for two weeks now, a schedule of keeping cool and on the down-low, getting Sherlock prepared and sex. That had been something she’d missed. Now she didn’t have to worry.

“Yeahp, I’ll start lowering the doses until his head is completely clear in five days, then we can start.”

 

Months and months of planning had gone into this, really everything was going to plan… with the rehabilitation going well, it would only be a matter of time before the true plans were carried out. Sovelia cracked the lollipop with her teeth, crunching it up quickly before finding a new one to start on. This was going to be fun.

 

***

 

Sherlock was comfortable and warm, full and not in pain. But that wasn’t all he could recognize. Immediately he smelt the residue of dust, the buzz of the lights over head, and the sharp smell of antiseptic. He blinked his eyes open, and everything was too bright, everything was too harsh. After days on end of it being muted, it was quite a lot to take in. His head was thudding in his ears, he felt like he craved the dullness again. Sherlock’s pupils were slits, and he flicked his eyes around, scowling. John. John didn’t know where he was, John would be worried. He needed to find John. Quietly, he crept around the room, peering around the corner. His savior and captor was no where to be seen, not down the hall. Listening more than he had for what seemed like a long time, Sherlock snuck down the hall.

 

His senses were still dulled though, so it took him a moment to realize Moriarty was waiting at the corner, clad in white with a deathly cool blue sheen to her wings as she whistled. He turned, stumbling, he hadn’t moved so quickly for a long while, as she chewed on the lolly snake. Sherlock regained his balance, only to feel his knees get taken out but a block of wood. He cried out, he should have seen this coming, he had only been being farmed, why would he expect anything less? He looked up, eyes streaming. “Why are you doing this?” He said through grit teeth, just as Sebastian came forward with a vial filled with a thick black liquid.

 

Moriarty was waving with her free hand, grinning as Sherlock tried to struggle out of Sebastians grip, he felt the needle slip in, he could almost feel the goo spreading through his blood stream, just as the other dragon spoke.

 

“All will be revealed, my pet.”


	11. Test Subject: Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the writing quality is going down, we're nearing the end (ish), so if you hold on just a little bit longer you guys can finally not worry about it.  
> (P.S i wrote this at 2am please don't hate me)
> 
> Sorry that these are so spread apart ugh 
> 
> ENJOYXX

Sherlock awoke and it was as if he were floating. No… wait, not floating, hanging. The dragon turned and writhed for a few seconds, trying to free himself from whatever was keeping him restrained, but the cuffs were slicing at his wrists, his wings were being forced into his back by some unknown force. He couldn’t see, but he could hear, and the afct that it was Moriarty’s voice right in front of him did not leave him at ease.

 

“Calm down love, there is nothing to worry about.”

 

Except there was. Sherlock could feel a needle sliding into his skin, and at first it felt as if he would be fine, but as whatever was injected into him went around his bloodstream, it finally touched every part of his system, and he caught alight.

He shrieked like a banshee as he felt his stomach collapse in on itself, and he was shuddering, but the only thing he could focus on was the fact that he could hear her speaking, like he had tunnel vision even though that sense was not available to him.

 

“Test subject four responding well to first administration, slight adverse effects, but otherwise fine.”

 

The fire was fading, the pain dissipating in it’s own time, and Sherlock felt the sweat dripping off his face in sheets, he felt as if he’d been trying to throw up but there was nothing but bile in his stomach, and every dragon instinct in his body was fighting to get out but he was unable to, as if it was being held in the base of his spine, chomping at the bit to escape.

 

His eyes were open, they were, spinning wildly in their sockets, unseeing and all seeing, and Sovelia smiled, leaning back in her chair as she watched Sherlock absorb it, control it. Only nine more administrations to go, spread out over ten days. In the back of her mind, Sovelia knew that the handler, Johnny Boy, would be searching high and low for his precious pet, so she was debating if she could condense the experiment to half the time. Sherlock definitely was lasting longer than the other one’s she’d collected; they had perished before the needle had even entered their skin, of shock, or whatever _trauma_ she’d put them through. Except they hadn’t known trauma. They’d been able to escape it.

 

“Prepare the next one for him would you please Sebby?” Sovelia asked sweetly, chewing her bottom lip as if this decision had been a hard one, except she had already concluded that time was of the essence, especially because it would only be slightly more difficult for Sherlock to take two a day instead of one. Sovelia was almost entirely sure he’d be able to take it. There was that lovely feel in her bones that everything was going to work out just fine.

 

***

 

He was in his cage again, and they were heating him up to be compliant. Sherlock wanted to bite, to snap, but his teeth weren’t sharpening, and now they were shocking him. All he’d done was growl, but now they were shoving him, breaking him, hurting him, they were going to kill him this time, surely they were, but they didn’t. One of them, called the hurt away, brushing his curls off his face. His eyes, still unseeing, were blown black with his wide pupils, and even his humanoid skin was flashing the color of his scales. It looked highly unusual, but no one watching the brunet go blue, then a bright green, hateful red, minded too much.

 

Sovelia was standing at the back, looking much like a twisted child in a candy shop, Sebastian was sure that she would be jumping up and down and clapping if she didn’t have the self control of a madman.

 

“Prepare the sixth,” she said calmly, and Sebastian turned, the wet towel in his hand, used to wipe down Sherlock’s forehead dropping down.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s only been four hours since the last-“

“Prepare it, Sebastian,” Sovelia purred, more lowly, more dangerously, walking forward very slowly, taking the towel once she was close enough, and the man let out a small breath, ducking his head in compliance.

“Of course.”

 

As he walked away he listened to his partner coo to the other dragon, and he looked over his shoulder briefly, only feeling a little sick at watching Sovelia tenderly wipe Sherlock’s brow, telling him it would be alright. That everything was going to work out just fine.

 

***

 

_The apartment was just as they’d left it, and John was making tea for the both of them. Sherlock curled up on his chair, purring and rolling at the comfort being home provided. The war had been long and hard, but now he and John were home, and all was gone._

_“Do you want it iced?” Sherlock heard from the kitchen, and he scoffed._

_“Of course I do, are you stupid John?” He asked, and then waited for his brew, excited to start falling back into a homey routine._

_And waited._

_And waited._

_Ten minutes passed, and Sherlock growled low in his throat, irritation evident. He stood, and stalked to the kitchen, but something was very very wrong. Sherlock felt his wings extend, ears searching for sign of his handler, his friend. “John?” He asked, footsteps slowing as he made his way to the kitchen. There was no sound of John making tea anymore, and the dragon felt the worried mewl come his lips before he could stop it._

_“John?” he called again, more loudly, but instead of his friend being there, it was Moriarty, John sitting at the kitchen table, back to the entrance. Sherlock hissed, dropping low, knees bent, and his continuous growl menacing. Moriarty didn’t seem to notice, continuing to stir the mug. Sherlock hesiatated, it didn’t seem as if she was aware that he was present. He snuck forward, touching the blond’s shoulder lightly._

_“John,” he whispered, but the noise cut off to a choked cry as he rounded the man, and Sherlock was backing away from the man, starting to shake, John’s bright blue eyes were unseeing, the rest of him pale. Now Sherlock could smell it, the rich iron smell of blood, the rich iron smell of blood that was very obviously slipping down John’s throat, the slit gaping and pulsing, and Moriarty turned, bringing the mug away from her lips, they were blood red. She offered the mug to him, and the scent overwhelmed him, Sherlock was shaking and near screaming, but they were getting caught in his throat._

_The mug was filled with fresh blood, and three ice cubes mocked it, floating and causing the dragon to gag._

_“You wanted it iced yeah?”_

Sovelia watched from the other room, smiling like a child on Christmas as Sherlock writhed on the floor, shrieking and clawing at whatever was around him. There were tears streaming down his cheeks, and he was kicking out like he was fighting. The fact that he could move was perfect, she knew his sight wouldn’t return for a few more days, but by then he’d be perfect. He’d have to be ready, and she still had to check if the procedure had worked, but lining the wall above her head were the ten empty syringes, mounted like what was happening was some sort of trophy.

 

The dragon watched as Sherlock rolled over the restraints he’d snapped in two, watched as his skin almost rolled in what looked like waves. He’d soon burst into his dragon form, and she was quite excited to see how he would have changed, but for the moment, she held her hand out for the martini Sebastian had made for her, the edges ice cold. She sipped it slowly, licking some of it off her lips, bright eyes hungry for more of the show on the other side of the window.

 

Everything was on track to working out fine.


End file.
